Horologe
by magic-mint-pancakes
Summary: Forced to partake in an experiment at the School, 14-year-old Maximum Ride finds herself tossed into 19th century England, right onto the doorstep of the young Earl Phantomhive. What happens when two entirely different worlds collide? And will Max ever be able to find a way back home?
1. Chapter 1

**YAY MARCH BREAK~! I am so happy for this my gosh. ;w; So, I decided to whip up a new crossover { they are just so much fun to write amg } - though, I really should be updating my other fanfic...I'M SORRYYYY **

**A plot bunny hopped up to me and WHAM, here it is! **

**This fic is post The Angel Experiment, and takes place around Season 2 of Black Butler. **

**And there will NOT be any pairings because yeah. u w u **

**So no Max x Sebastian of any shit like that~. **

**Anywho, hope you guys enjoy! AND SORRY FOR ANY OOCNESS! QwQ **

**Oh, and before I forget - I don't own Maximum Ride, nor Black Butler ^ **

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Max's POV 

Sweat trickled down the side of my face as I pummelled an Eraser's face in with as much strength as I had, trying to ignore the cameras observing me left, right, and centre. Damn whitecoats. Recording every little thing I do.

I was currently located in the fiery pits of hell. Aka, The School. Well, The School's field to be exact. You know, the one where they let their bloodthirsty, steroid-induced, I-Will-Freaking-Tear-You-To-Shreds Erasers run loose. Yeah. It wasn't exactly pleasant, I can assure you.

Not to mention my Flock had disappeared to god-knows-where, and I hadn't the foggiest clue whether they were someplace safe, or right smack dab in the middle of danger. It was fucking horrible. Excuse my language.

Delivering a swift round-house kick to an Eraser on my right, putting some more distance between me and the upcoming wolf-thing, I promptly did a backflip [like a freaking NINJA] off the now bleeding-excessively Eraser that I had gracelessly pummelled. He was now another addition to my growing collection of unconscious, half-dead Erasers to which I left for the crows to come and pick all their brains out. If they had any that is.

I was now pretty exhausted - wait, no, make that extremely exhausted, being deprived of water and my required 3000-4000 calories for approximately 2 and a half days. This fight was really burning me out. And yet, there still was a seemingly-limitless amount of Erasers to come.

If there wasn't an electrocuted dome covering this goddamn field, I would've flied the hell outta here by now. But sadly, it just doesn't work that way. No, because the whitecoats have to go ahead, and make everything harder for me. Inconsiderate bastards.

With a sigh, I hardened my gaze, getting into a fighting stance as around five or six more Erasers hurdled towards me. However, just as I was about to get my face clawed off, a loud, whistle-like noise rang throughout the field, making all the Erasers in it freeze. They then suddenly turned away from me, and sprinted off towards the direction of the whistle, completely forgetting my utter existence, much to my relief.

Apparently, play time was over.

Alleluia.

I allowed myself to catch my breath, my legs shaky from running so much. That was when I felt a sharp pain in my upper thigh, almost like a-

I dropped to the floor almost immediately, my vision hazy and clouded.

_Sleeping dar_t, I thought, just as I blacked out.

* * *

When I woke up, I found myself strapped to a chair, alone, in an all-dark room, apart from a light shining down in my face.

Squeezing my eyes from the brightness, I tried to get as good of a view as possible, expecting to see needles and vials of medicine or something stashed away somewhere. Surprisingly, there weren't any at all. Which was a bit of a shocker, considering how the whitecoats are all demented, experiment-obsessed freakazoids.

I swallowed what little saliva I had left in my mouth, wondering what the whitecoats could possibly have in store for a little bird-girl like me.

The door creaked opened, a certain sneaky, evil, moustached little weasel walking in.

Jeb.

I could upchuck just thinking about the man. Too bad my stomach is practically the Gobi desert at the moment.

"What is it now Jeb? Come to bask in my pathetic state like the sick fuck you are?" I asked, eyes narrowed.

He chucked lightly. "Max, Max, Max...feisty as always, I see..." Jeb commented, gently pushing up his glasses. "And no, I wasn't planning on doing that, actually." He frowned.

I grit my teeth. "Why are you here then?"

Jeb let out a sigh, approaching the chair I was strapped to. "Max, I'm here to proceed with an experiment, a test. One of my colleagues asked me to, you see. He invented something that could possibly be the turn of the century, the next big thing. Just like the phone, or the light bulb. It's a work of genius, really."

"Ah huh, sure it is. And I can take that I'm going to be the guinea pig to this 'work of genius', aren't I?" I said dryly.

He nodded, his face grim. "Yes...yes you are," Jeb said, frowning more. "I'm sorry Max, but you were the only experiment with the highest possibility of surviving it. If the invention succeeds, that is." He looked me in the eye. "For if it does, you'll be whisked back a hundred years or so, into the 19th century."

My eyes widened to the size of saucers, my mouth nearly touching the floor. "So you're saying that it's a _time machine-_?!"

I laughed, looking away. "That's insane...Jeb you really are a nutcase..."

"No - I'm serious, Max," he said, shaking his head. "In fact, the chair you're strapped to, well, that's the invention itself."

"Mother of -" My head whipped to the sides of said chair, where I saw rows upon rows of complicated-looking buttons and levers and such. My god, maybe Jeb really was telling the truth...

I swallowed. "And, what happens if this so-called time machine doesn't work-?"

He went quiet. "...Then...you **blow up**."

"_WHAT_-" I seriously could not believe what he was saying. "This is fucking crazy! I'm getting out of here-!" Using what little strength I had left, I tried to yank myself from the chair [or should I say time machine...], having no success whatsoever.

Jeb only approached the side of the chair, where all the buttons were. He talked to me as he worked, pressing buttons and typing in god-knows-what into the machine. "Max, just remember...you were made to save the world. Everything happens for a reason." He placed a hand on my shoulder. "Good luck, Maximum Ride."

And with that, he pressed one last button, making the chair vibrate and rattle violently. His hand pulled away, the chair starting to spin as well. I felt a strong sense of dizziness, and shut my eyes to try and avoid the nausea.

_'Beware the one who dons eyes a ruby red.'_

I felt those words ring in my head as the chair span, over and over again. It was piercing my ears, making me cry out from the unbearable pain.

The Voice was back. But why it was causing me this much pain, I didn't know.

_ 'Beware the one who dons eyes a ruby red.' _

I now felt as if I was falling, falling down a endless pit. It was as if the chair had disappeared completely.

In the background, I could hear faint voices, many of them. And - were those British accents..? Strange...

_'Beware the one who dons eyes a ruby red.' _

The monotone Voice echoed one last time in my head, before I felt myself come in contact with the cold, hard ground, face-first.

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General POV 

The young Earl clenched his teeth in annoyance as he heard a certain demon hound howl at the top of its lungs, thoroughly disturbing him from his work. It was late into the night, around 11:00 PM, yet the blue-eyed thirteen-year-old was still working away on his paperwork. He was originally intending on retiring soon, but Pluto had made it nearly impossibly for him to concentrate. The boy was extremely irritated from the hound's obnoxious howls, and simply had enough.

He snapped his pale fingers. "Sebastian."

Said butler was there in an instant, bowing respectively. "Yes, my lord?" he inquired.

"See to it that Pluto silences that infernal howling of his. I need to finish my paperwork," Ciel ordered, with a wave of his hand.

Sebastian nodded, his lips quirking into a smirk. "Of course." And with a whoosh of his tailcoat, the butler was on his way, intending on carrying out his master's wish.

He used his long legs to his advantage, striding towards the manor's entrance. Sebastian then threw open the large wooden doors, looking at the sight in front of him in shock.

Pluto was there alright...except there was someone else too.

He was barking at the top of his lungs at what appeared to be a young girl, lying right in front of the door, unconscious. She was terribly bruised and bloody, her hair indistinguishable between blonde or brown due to being so dirty, and was clothed in what looked to be a mud/grass-covered nightgown. But what was even stranger was how there was something large poking out of the girl's back from underneath the nightgown, two big lumps.

_That's odd..._, the demon thought, proceeding to pick her up.

Sebastian then turned to Pluto, who silenced immediately after he removed the strange girl from the ground. "Good boy," he said with a faint smile, before turning and heading back inside, carrying the limp girl in his arms.

He had a feeling that it was going to get a whole lot more interesting from here on.

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**Review please, lovelies~! I will update when I get at least 5 reviews~. Thank you!**

**\- magic-mint-pancakes**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you all for the reviews, follows, and favourites! x3 **

**And I sincerely apologize for the hiatus; school and all budded in y'know! (^**◇**^;)**

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**Note: I don't own Maximum Ride or Black Butler. I don't own a cat either lol.**

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_Sebastian then turned to Pluto, who silenced immediately after he removed the strange girl from the ground. "Good boy," he said with a faint smile, before turning and heading back inside, carrying the limp girl in his arms._

_He had a feeling that it was going to get a whole lot more interesting from here_

_on._

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General POV

Sebastian's long slender fingers curled into a ball, the man's free hand knocking thrice upon the door to Ciel Phantomhive's study. A monotone voice answered almost immediately.

"Come in."

The demon butler promptly entered, cradling the injured girl in his arms. He glanced at his young master.

"I have found the cause for Pluto's barking, my lord," Sebastian told him, nodding towards the blood-covered girl. "It is because of this girl here, who was strewn across the front of your manor in a most unsightly fashion."

The boy's visible eye scanned the stranger, his expression unreadable. He turned to his butler. "...See to it that our little...guest gets fixed up, Sebastian. I can't have someone dressed so filthily, like an urchin, sleeping in my household. It soils the Phantomhive name."

Sebastian glanced at the boy, raising an inquiring eyebrow. "Anything else, young master?"

Ciel nodded. "Yes. Since this girl is obviously unable to submit to questioning in her state, bring her to my study tomorrow morning after she has awoken. I intend to get some answers from her about this little..._incident," _he stated, lips fixed in a slightly irritated scowl. "Collapsing onto one's doorstep, completely uninvited... how inconsiderate."

"Of course, my lord."

Sebastian gave a formative bow in response and swiftly turned on his heel, fully intent on carrying out the other's requests.

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Max's POV

My eyes snapped open, and I yanked my body upright. A million questions whizzed through my head as I scanned my surroundings, my very-much-alert eyes darting around the room.

First off, where the hell was I-?! I don't remember drifting off to sleep in this Victorian-style bedroom, tucked away under a ridiculous amount of blankets. I don't even remember drifting off to sleep in the first place.

I ripped off the schmancy quilts, leaped off the bed, and speed-walked across the room. I was officially in panic mode.

Reaching for the doorknob, I was about to exit, when I unintentionally passed by a mirror, a tall one bordered by fancily-carved wood. What I saw inside was not at all shocking.

Oh no, it was freaking _terrifying_.

There, staring back at me, was a girl wearing a long, frilly _nightmare_, and had clean—yes folks, _clean—_blondish brown hair [which was still messy, thank god].

_Someone_ must have undressed me from the hospital gown I was wearing earlier on. And that same _someone_ must have given me a bath too.

I can't even say the obscenities I'm thinking right now, or I'm afraid I might permanently scar the faint-at-heart here.

Going to a nearby wardrobe, I hurriedly threw open the doors, mentally sighing in relief that there was some _proper clothes _in there. I mean, it was kinda obvious that you couldn't fight in a nightdress. Actually, you can't fight in a dress, period. Floofy things are so darn restricting.

I hurriedly threw the offensive thing off and changed into a pair of these weird, old fashioned shorts instead, taking out a scruffy long-sleeved shirt as well. They looked to be boys' clothes, but frankly, I didn't give one.

Snapping a hook off of a coatrack, I promptly used it to rip slits in the back of the shirt so that my wings could go through. I pressed said wings flat against my back, and pulled the shirt over me, before proceeding to storm out of the room. Because, oh boy, I was so gonna unleash a can of whoop-ass when I find whoever did this to me.

I was still somewhat injured from my little battle with Erasers earlier, but my wounds were already starting to heal, so I'm sure I would be fine. Plus, when has an injury ever stopped me from taking part in a fight? Exactly.

Bare feet stomping down the wooden halls, my dark eyes were already narrowed in their signature, Max-exclusive glare.

But, not so much had I turned a corner, I slammed into an [albeit somewhat curvaceous] figure, and knocked said figure to the ground. Turns out it was some lady dressed in this form-fitting maid dress— a horribly ridiculous outfit, I gotta admit. She wore huge circular glasses and had a shock of magenta hair, and was flustering like no tomorrow.

"S-so sorry, miss!" she shrilled, voice thick with an obnoxiously-harsh British accent.

I decided against pointing out the fact that I was the one who bumped into _her_, not the other way around; I was just _so_ not in the mood.

Instead, I chose to do things the more aggressive way- something more in my area of expertise - and roughly grabbed the front of her collar. Not even bothering to be gentle, I yanked her off the ground and darkly hissed into her ear.

"_Where the hell am I._"

She seemed to get even more stressed out than before, "Ehm, y-you're actually not supposed to be out of your room-"

"I'll ask you again," My voice was low and dangerous. "Where the _hell_ am I." My fingers gripped her collar tighter, and I slammed her against the wall, leaning in to add a little extra threatening pizzazz. Well, not really, I was just incredibly pissed off, and her submissive attitude pissed me off more.

"Young miss, I'm going to have to ask you to release the maid, please."


	3. Chapter 3

**Double update for you guys, since you gave me double the reviews! Thanks a bunch! ^u^**

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**Note: I dunnot own Maximum Ride + Black Butler ! ;;3;; **

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A deceivingly-pleasant voice, smooth like freshly-opened peanut butter [god, did I mention that I was absolutely _starving_?], wafted by my ear. Like, _right by_ my ear.

I whirled around so fast I'm pretty sure I left one of those cliche, Road Runner dust clouds.

Two twin auburn orbs stared at me, the kind of colour you find in a glass of cherry cola, thick eyelashes adorning each one.

There, standing not even a whisper away, was this guy- tousled black hair, the kind of flawless, porcelain skin that even I, the one who doesn't even bother to scrub the dirt off her face, could be jealous of, and tall enough. Of course, he was nowhere close to rivalling my two favourite lil beanstalks, Ig and Fang, but was _almost_ two inches taller than me.

He smiled, a slight curl of his lips that sorta reached his eyes but then again not quite. The magenta-haired maid melted next to me.

Good god, this man looked like something bought from 'Goth Kens R Us', fresh out of the box. [Fang would too, and to be honest, their resemblances kind of scared me.]

But, I had expertise in dealing with the effortlessly beautiful; I could still tell those shits off without a single bat of my crusty eyelash. So naturally, while he was giving possibly the fakest smile ever known to man, I was glaring something fierce, challengingly.

"Listen up, and listen good," I began, still holding the maid hostage. "I want you to tell me just _where_ the fuck I am, and _who_ you are, and _what_ I am doing in this place, before Pinky Pie over here starts coughing up a certain substance that you'd _wish_ was ketchup."

It wasn't very Maxly of me to make death threats, I know. Having to be the heroine who saves the world 'n all, as Angel and the Voice insist on telling me, puts me in a bit of an identity pickle, you see.

Except, despite all that, we still can't ignore the fact that said heroine has indeed _killed_ people before, multiple times. Real people who probably had families, children, in order to selfishly get her and her merry band of mutant men to safety.

So this wasn't really too difficult of an action to take. Heroics can wait till I get some nice and truthful answers.

The surreal-looking male actually let out a chuckle in response, continuing to give that fake-ass smile of his.

"Really, now. Resorting to such petty threats...and using vulgarities as well? I'm afraid my eyes deceive me, for you are certainly not the same little girl I found on the lawn, unconscious, covered in grime, bleeding half to death, and looking absolutely pathetic." He leaned closer. "I daresay you are lucky my master was gracious enough to let you stay the night, forget receive treatment."

"Well I _daresay_ your master has wasted his time, spiffy," I spat, being sure to enunciate that word with a British accent of my own. Gazzy would probably snort out loud at the suckyness of it, but not everyone has the ability to mimic everyone and thing down to the last syllable.

Not-so hastily, I released the maid. I bet my inhumanly strong grip still lingered on the poor girl; she had struggled a tad, even tried to kick me, but with no avail.

"And if that's really all there is to it, like no brutal kidnapping or anything of the sort involved, then I guess that's all the better. Real good and dandy. Thanks a bunch." I'd normally hate to admit it, but I kind of sounded like an ungrateful, sarcastic bitch. "I'll be taking my leave now."

I turned and began heading towards the nearest window. I honestly had no idea just where I was going to go after I did my little up-up-and-away, but, I knew that somehow I could find my way back to the Flock.

But, just as I took another step forward, I found myself bumping into the man who had been standing behind me not even a second ago.

"I apologize, but I can't let you do that, young miss," he said, and something about his tone screamed 'sorry not sorry,' like that time Nudge and Gazzy gouged the last slice of chocolate cake that was clearly meant for me.

I glared at him, rolling my shoulders back and raising my head so I could make myself seem taller. Kind of like a programmed animalistic defence mechanism. The height difference of ours, slight as it may be, really, really bothered me. "Why not?"

"Because," he said. "My young master requests your presence."

I had such a WTH moment right there and then. It wasn't even funny. My mind pulled a total, creeped-out blank.

And then, I came to my senses and simply, y'know, shoved the other out of the way. Violently shoved.

He actually stumbled back some, shock evident in his eyes, but I didn't pay any attention to such insignificant details and instead focused on making a well-practised run for it. And did I ever run, one leg pumping vigorously in front of the other, bare feet burning as they scraped the wooden floor, even taking the occasional chunk out of it. I probably got heels full of splinters now, yay me.

Taking a mighty leap off the ground, I hurled myself through the window, smashing through the glass. Fresh air hit my nostrils and, inhaling it in solitude, I snapped out my wings, all fifteen plus feet of 'em.

I felt like the shit right there; soaring high above the stupid mansion and its stupid inhabitants, feeling the wind rush through my veins and my hair become a windblown, tangled mess once again, as it should be.

Then the gunshot rang out.

Immediately, I felt the pain. Blood seeped heavily from under my feathers, my wings getting heavier by the second. It was only one shot, but it struck true, right in the middle of my wing, and fuck, it _hurt_. I tried to flap with only one, but we all know that was destined for failure, and I was dropping fast.

As I fell, my wings dragging me down like useless mounds of weight, I caught sight of the big-breasted maid girl, upper-body partially poking out from the broken window, glasses pulled up her forehead, and rifle aimed straight at yours feathery.

_The sneaky bastard_.

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**Ok so Mey-rin seems to be really underestimated in most BB fanfics and I thought, hey, she's a badass character, so why not show her badass side? **

**Poor Max though omg**


	4. Chapter 4

**I'm on a roll, folks! ;-) happy New Year's Eve!**

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Max's POV

I sat on this tuffet-like chair, bearing a defiant, pissed-off expression that probably made me look constipated, while God's Gift - Sebastian, his name apparently was - bundled my wing in firm, tightly-wound bandages.

"You know, young miss, if only you had complied, this whole unfortunate ordeal would not have happened," he said, voice borderline amusement and a little something else.

"Screw you." With a busted wing, I was stuck here to rot. It took a while for these things to heal, even with my genetically-enhanced recovery, and I couldn't say I was happy about it.

What I _could_ say was that I was absolutely, positively devastated about this and felt like _screaming_ my lungs out, but, I've never been one for dramatics. Even though my life seems to be one drawling, badly-directed drama film, one constantly filled with tragic moments and violence and mushyness mixed in between. A real classic tear-jerker. I hate tear-jerkers.

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-**REWIND**-

It was obvious I was falling, spiralling down towards my feathery death at a neck-break speed of 120 mph. I braced myself with everything I had, feeling sorry for myself that I actually let myself die in such an embarrassing way. Shot out of the sky like a stupefied duck in hunting season, by a freakin' _maid_ no less. Maybe I'll get put in some festive Thanksgiving stew to add to the irony, bird kid flavour for a little extra tang. Real nice way to go, Max.

I expected that, hurdling towards the ground and all, I would feel something a little more than just, '_thwmp_.' Unless, I hadn't hit the ground at all. And, _what luck_, that was just my case.

Strong hands were laced around my shoulders and just above the hamstrings, and, to my absolute horror, I found myself being held in a friggen _princess carry._ If there were any two words to describe the most cliche, _sappy_, hopeless-romantic, useless-damsel-girl hold there was, that would be it. My bones may not have been crushed, but fuck, my dignity sure was.

The dark-haired male seemed to be in some sort of weird trance, eyes glued to the large, currently-limp wings dangling behind me. He stared at them, at the damage, and even so, I could tell he was shamelessly analyzing it all. Marvelling the limb, as if the injury wasn't even there.

"...Ok, alright, you can put me down now," I said loudly, trying to snap the man out of it. I managed to force my lean, still-healing torso up with a wince. My shot wing, bleedin' buckets, mind you, twitched bit as I did so, which hurt like the dickens.

Slowly, he glanced to me and raised a dark, perfectly-waxed (did this guy wax his brows? Because it sure looked like he did, not a freaking stray hair in sight) eyebrow, a flicker of disbelief in his eyes, "Young miss, you were shot. Expertly so. I do not think you're in any position to injure yourself even more."

"_Sexist piglet_," I began, icy tone daring him to interrupt. "Don't even go there with me. I can handle myself perfectly fine. And I don't need some suit-n-tie, snot-nosed, British _fart_ trying to tell me what's what. I can make my own decisions around here, thank you very much. Not you. Me. This is_ my wing_ we're talking about here, not yours. And if I think I'm perfectly capable to walk on my own, then _shit-to-the-yes_, I most certainly am. Now put me down before I drive my fist through those perfectly-carved nostrils of yours, because trust me, I _will_."

There was a very long, very shocked paused, but when I felt myself being slowly, begrudgingly lowered to the ground, I knew then and there that I had successfully dished out one of my infamous, tell 'em off to the moon speeches, the kind that makes the Flock dive under their beds. Because they know when Max ain't happy, nobody is.

"Wise choice," I said.

He let out a deep sigh, obviously stressed and trying to recover from the fact of being told off and told off _good_, by a fourteen year old, no less, and gave one last, somewhat weary, but all the more irritated look. "Follow me, please."

I hampered right on after the man, wing half-dragging me down like a hundred pound weight. I felt kind of bad for whichever pool soul had to clean up the mess I left behind, gigundous stains of blood courtesy of my ever-leaking wound. _Oh wait_.

Bitch deserves it.

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-**STILL REWIND-**

Guess who I saw on the way to wherever-the-hell-this-butler-was-leading-me? That's right. Little miss magenta hair - did I mention my hatred for red-heads? No? Well magenta's pretty darn close to red - in her frou-frou slutbag maid costume, quaking her legs like no tomorrow as we walked past.

She actually looked somewhat _sorry_ for what she did, like she just realized what a total douche move it was to shoot a _flying child _right out of the sky. And sorry she will be, by the time my wing's fixed up and I'm done with her. How did that woman even manage to hide a freaking _sniper_ in the first place? ...Actually, you know what, I don't even wanna know.

Flashing a dark, venomous glare in her direction, one that could quite possible pierce diamonds, I dragged my hand across my neck and mouthed the word 'kill.' She trembled even harder and fainted on the spot. I felt real good about myself.

I felt so good in fact, I didn't even realize that we were starting to go up the stairs, and tripped hard as my foot connected with the front of the first step. The carpet was kind of bunched up there since I'd been dragging my feet this whole time, having to carry wing-weight and all. I fell flat on my face. My wing pinned me to the ground painfully, and I couldn't get up on my own, no matter how many times I tried to heave-ho.

Karma always gets you back, I guess.

Ken doll, goth edition gave me this knowing smile, and I knew the jerk was basking in my defeat as he batted his eyes with fake innocence and said, "If I may?"

I grunted. My good mood had gone and dissipated as quickly as it came, and I found myself back to where I'd originally started, lying grouchily in the man's arms.

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**Some feedback, perhaps? (^ー゜)** ︎


	5. Chapter 5

Only own the plot, not the characters!

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-**BACK TO THE FUTURE ... PAST? I DON'T EVEN KNOW ANYMORE-**

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And henceforth, here I was, slouching, arms tightly wrapped together in the classic demonstration of bad-moodiness, and grumbling incoherencies to myself. Sebastian seemed to be taking his sweet ol' time bandaging up my wing, having carefully removed the bullet with this weird surgical tool I've never seen before. I didn't even so much as flinch as he did so. The little sting was nothing compared to what horrors I had to endure back at the School.

His fingers, slender and donning crystalline white gloves, continued to linger on my wing, ghosting across it in the slightest of ways. "I've never seen a human bear such..._unique physical qualities_ before," his voice murmured, so lowly that even my enhanced super-hearing could barley pick it up. Even so, it was kinda obvious the guy was referring to my wings.

And, speaking of which — wandering hands cupped my feathers, tugging on them in a faint, mildly-curious sort of way, and prominently sent a full-on shiver down my spine.

Oh.

My.

_God_.

Did this dude seriously just do what I think he did? Did he just freaking touch my wings? Like actually, run his slimy little fingers through, as if I gave him some sort of exclusive, VIP permission?!

Congratulations mister butler sir, you've just proved yourself to be approximately fifty times creepier than I'd originally depicted! Fifty _fucking_ more times.

Feathers ruffling in disgust, I immediately scooted away from his reach and threw a glower over my shoulder, smacking away at whatever lingering digits remained. "Hands off, buttercup. I should charge you with sexual assault, feeling up my wings like that. _Gross_."

His hand slowly clenched, the male forcing a smile at me. "I greatly apologize, miss. I was merely curious. Please excuse my behaviour."

"_Merely curious_, oh yeah, I bet." My eyes lolled to the back of my head. "Honestly, if your bullshit gets any older, it's going to crumble into stinky little particles of dust."

Sculpted eyelids twitching, Sebastian's smile was starting to slip. He briskly stood up, twinges of repugnance prominent in the moment, and I stood up as well, dignified and challenging.

"Follow me. The young master's request mustn't be stalled any longer." His voice was chillingly calm.

"The heck do you mean, request?" I said immediately. When he just started strolling away, ignoring my comment, believe it or not, I glared splintered bits of mud in his direction. "Well, _excuse you_!"

"Young miss, the sheerness of your attitude is a truly thought-provoking thing. I wonder how on earth it is that, despite being bruised and battered all over, shot brutishly in the wing, you are still able to fire such rancidities at the very one you should be owing your measly, short little life to. You shan't even be able to speak, you've lost so much blood."

"I shit miracles for a living, what can I say?!"

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**oK A bit of a short chapter, ik ;;;;**

**but the next one will be longer, scout's promise!**


	6. Chapter 6

The first thing that came to mind the second I laid my unbarfed-chocolate eyes upon this supposed 'young master' character, the head honcho himself, were these three blessed words: _snooty little bastard_.

Because, in all honesties, he just fit that description perfectly. The 'snooty' bit especially.

There mister-boss-man was, sittin' there all prim on his cushy, too-big chair, eyeing me with his haughty little blues, nostrils practically glued to the ceiling. The minute I saw his board-straight posture and groomed-to-perfection everything, I knew the kid had a stick so far shoved up his ass, it probably stabbed into his blue-blooded brain cells with every step he took. Unless he was carried around everywhere on a gigundous pillow or something, because in this snot's case, that seemed totally possible.

"Sebastian," he started, immediately sending the lengthy butler to his knees. Even better aiding my snootalator assumptions, the boy had a British accent. The uber-ripened cherry on top of a double-scoop of your average everyday, stereotypical snob. "This is the trespasser from the previous nigh, I presume?"

Sebastian dipped his head in a respectful nod. "Indeed, milord." Gracefully, he rose from his crouch-like bow and gestured to me with a swoop of his arm. "I regret to inform that I did not acquire knowledge of this child's name, however."

"And that's perfectly fine," I cut in loudly. "Because, to be honest, you don't really need to know."

'Milord's' eyes snapped over to me, lips forming a tight line. "What are you called, urchin?" he demanded, tone sharp and ever-British.

"A great many things," I began, nonchalant as I waved a hand back and forth. "Some nicer than others." Then, processing what the little shit just referred to me as, one of my brows shot for the sky. "And _urchin_? Are you effing kidding me? Is that really the best you can come up with? I know that my personality is moderately prickly at best, and I have gills and all, but really? That lame comparison is bringing tears to my eyes."

Sebastian glanced over to me, giving that disgustingly fake, Vogue-worthy smile of his. "Young miss, I suggest you cease the insolent snark-filled comments immediately, because it very well won't help your situation whatsoever. Feigning tears are so much better than having _real_ ones, wouldn't you agree?"

Glaring at the man's lead-on threat, I threw my arms up in the air. "...Ok, you know what, _fine_. You jerks win." I sighed in defeat. "My name is Eloise-Ann Roseberger HeitzenFuckYoustein Chovinski Smith. You may call me Lulu for short."

"Do I look like an idiot to you?" the Earl seethed. "That is the fakest name I've ever heard."

I pressed a hand to my heart. "You _wound_ me, kind sir. Demanding my full, honest-to-goodness birth name, and then, poking fun at it all. How utterly rude. What nerve."

His navy orbs flashed, and it was kind of obvious that the kid was starting to get pissed off, teeth grinding against each other, "Stop this charade at once. No such surname is recorded, nor exists, for the matter, in all of England. And you better well believe that I have full proof of that."

"Who's to say I'm from England?" I was really going at it with the smart-ass comments, wasn't I?

Noticing that I was now at the end of receiving dark, dangerous looks from both master and butler alike, I slowly cleared my throat. "...It's Max," I said begrudgingly, letting out an irritated sigh. "I'm Max, ok? Impatient bastards."

"There we go," soothed Sebastian almost mockingly, steam-pressed smile showing clear satisfaction. "That wasn't too hard, now was it?"

"So your name is Max, hm?" the young bluenette pondered, eyebrows still somewhat narrowed. His voice was like haughty shards of ice. "Terribly unbefitting name, for a girl. I feel sorry for you."

Oh, so he wanted to turn this into _that_ sort of conversation, huh?

"Really?" I said, faking enthusiasm. "Wow,_ you aren't a sexist piglet at all!_" My toenails practically dug themselves into the ground as I stalked towards him and his stupid comfortable chair, grinning darkly. My tall frame loomed over them both. "Listen here, _squirt_. I named myself. You got a problem? You can tell it to the fist." I leaned down some, whispering, "Why don't you two get yourselves acquainted?"

Sebastian was between us mere seconds after I said that.

"That wouldn't be a wise decision, young miss," he said, giving a closed-eye smile. "I take it you value your life, yes?"

Immediately, I grabbed Sebastian by the knot of his tie and yanked him down, violently. "You know what, you should really stop with all this fucking 'young miss' BS. I've got a name, and it's Max. _Use it_."


	7. Chapter 7

**lol people are threatening me now cause of my hiatus **

**so, enjoy, folks! ✌️**

**i dont own maximum ride (nor her apparently hateable character that some feel a strong need to kill off bc of her boisterous opinions)**

**kuroshitsuji isnt mine either **

* * *

With that, I released his tie, lightly pushing the dark-haired man back along the way, and walked off towards the brat's desk area, which was full of piles upon piles of misc. paperwork and this plate full of pastries.

Pretty much immediately, I tore away at the display; mouth-watering tarts and thickly-layered chocolate cake slices and other similar delicious, heart-attack-inducing things practically getting shovelled down my throat. I probably looked disgusting, eating like that.

But hey, at least I have a (somewhat) decent excuse to eating like a total pig, being a starved, growing, bird kid who needs thousands upon thousands of calories per day and all. I was worn out, hungry, injured, and even more hungry. My stomach was probably hosting some tumbleweeds, it was so freaking empty.

Sebastian and the little blue haired kid were sending extremely disturbed looks my way, and I gave them the exact same treatment the other way around.

"The hell are you looking at? You expect me to friggen starve to death or something?" I snapped in their direction, mouth absolutely full of raspberry tart jelly. Some was even leaking from the corners of my chapped lips, crumbs spewing all over the place. A mucho-appetizing sight, I know. "I didn't eat for like, a jillion days, assholes."

"...That is _my_ dessert, I'll have you know," the Earl just stated hotly. "I don't exactly appreciate you bloody stealing it all."

I quirked a brow, the plate having been just then licked clean. My taste buds felt like they died, went to heaven, and were then reborn as the absolute best shit of the earth.

"Oh, do you still want some? I think I can barf a little bit up for you, wait just one moment." I then started making strangled choking noises, much to the other's absolute shock and horror, only to soon be stopped by Sebastian putting up a hand.

"That won't be necessary," the adult informed, with a (rather bitchy) smile. "I'm afraid I'd rather have my intestines clawed out by feral sabre wolves than allow the young master to consume such a repulsing, filthy excuse for a meal. He'll surely catch illness."

I folded my thin arms over my chest, snorting. "Do you guys like, not understand sarcasm or something? There's no way I'm gonna hurl up my breakfast just because Patchy the Pirate over here asked for it. That was delicious." I gave a loud burp. "Can I have some more?"

Patchy's eyelid twitched, lips not even bothering to form a smile. "So you liked it, hm? Well then, submit to my questioning, and you shall have as much bloody food as you please."

Ok, trying to get some answers out of me by torture, blackmail? Insulting the feathery fluff out of me? Now that simply doesn't do. But offer Max the Great and Stubbornful some food, and bam, you got that girl good.

"Sure thing, kiddo," I said immediately. "Fire away. I'm all ears."

Sebastian looked completely baffled by our little exchange, since I was giving them all such a monstrously hard time before (him especially), and now, after being bribed with some edibilities, I was acting like a freaking saint. Well, or at least as saintly as it's physically possible for me to get. Which isn't much.

"Alright then," the lithe male began, eyes drilling into my soul. "Tell me, why and what were you doing last night, passed out and bleeding all over my good lawn?"

I digested that. "Ok. Well, the truth is, last night, I was strapped into this totally wacked-up machineamabobber, and if it worked, I'd get sent back to like, dinosaur times or something. If it didn't work, I'd be blown up to smithereens. Here's what I'm thinking: I was blown up to smithereens, and now this here, whatever this is, is some sort of twisted British purgatory shit that I have to go through 'cos of all the cars I high-jacked and people I killed and y'know, stuff. Kapeesh?"

"Preposterous!" the other immediately declared, voice haughty. "What you're proposing is the possible existence of what seems to be a time machine, which has been scientifically proven to be _impossible_, I'll have you know."

"Well so-rry. You asked for the truth, and I gave you it," I said. "Can I have my food now?"

"No!" The Earl briskly stood up, and I snickered at how short he was. I'm sorry, I just, I can be really height-judgemental sometimes, growing up in a family full of beanpoles and all. C'mon, he was like an ant compared to me, it was hilarious. "I'm not finished with you yet!"

I groaned loudly, my short attention span just about used up. "But I'm hungry!"

"You just ate!"

Groaning even louder and more obnoxiously, I stomped back over to him and, painfully, managed to somewhat unfurl my wings. And let me tell you, that left one still hurt like hell, and to think I had to resort to this action really sucked, but since Sebastian was keeping his stinking trap glued shut, I had to defend my hunger the good ol' fashioned way.

"You see these?" My thumb poked vigorously at some primary feathers. "Yeah? Yeah? You see 'em, right?" My voice had that pressed sort of tone to it. "These, are called wings. And if you have wings son, let me tell you that you burn calories like rapid torpedo flames of hell, and you will never, ever, ever be full. Why? Because they're just engineered to be that way, that's freakin' why."

Waves of déjà vu promptly suffocated me as I distinctly felt a pair of prying hands, smaller and more girly though, that obviously didn't know the meaning of freaking personal space, and ignored my entire speech right there and then to ogle at my feathery glory.

Hence why I allowed my one good wing to, oh, you know, twitch-flap a little bit and knock the snot a few steps back. Not too hard or anything, just a light little nudge that sorta sent too-close peewees like him scrambling. I picked at my nails nonchalantly. "Oh whoopsies, my bad," I said. "It kinda has a mind of its own sometimes, y'know? Built-in reflex."

The Earl glared at me as I continued, "How about let's discuss this over lunch instead? Sounds like a plan to me. Whatdoyasay, Patchy? Lunch? With like, some fine British tea and stuff? You'd like that, won't you? 'Cos you're British. Brits like tea."

"My name is Ciel Phantomhive. Not 'Patchy,'" he grit out, low and lethal.

"Ciel Phantomhive," I tested with a sniff, tongue rolling. My shoulders shrugged tentatively. "...Sounds uptight. Prim as a poodle. Snobbish. I think it fits."

"Sebastian, escort the girl out. I'd like a moment's peace to gather my sanity."

"Certainly, young master." The butler gave a prompt half-bow, and began ushering a sputtering me from behind. "Come along, now."

"What the heck, you two ganging up on me?!"

Ciel sent a look my way, now sitting proper on his chaise once more. "I will meet you in the dining room in precisely thirty minutes, _Max_. And I damn well expect some thorough answers."

* * *

**from one cliffy to the other ...**

**ah i feel so evil w**


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